


For Now

by miera



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity encounters some ugly cat callers one night on her way to the foundry. Oliver is almost as shaken up as she is, for different reasons. Set post 3x01, pre 3x09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Now

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains mentions of street harassment and assault, but no details.

His phone rings a couple minutes after he reaches the foundry, before Oliver has a chance to change. It's Felicity, hopefully calling to say she's on her way. They have a lead on someone bankrolling a drug ring in the Glades he wants to chase down. He answers the call, "Hey, are you-"

"I need help," Felicity cuts him off. Every nerve in his body goes on alert. 

"I'm two blocks from Big Belly, there are a bunch of guys... shit, they're following me. The one guy said something nasty to me and I ignored him but now he's pissed. Oliver-"

He's already running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "I'm on my way. Just stay with me, Felicity."

"I'm on Elm Street. Oliver, please hurry-"

He can hear male voices in the background of the call, shouting slurs and getting louder. Felicity screams "Leave me alone!" as Oliver rounds the corner behind the foundry and takes off. 

"Felicity?"

She doesn't answer. He stops trying to use the phone, the better to use his arms to propel him around people, screeching cars and obstacles on the street. 

He rounds the corner onto Elm and spots a flash of blonde hair in a crowd of men two blocks down. He sees her kick the knee of a man hanging on to her arm and a spark of pride fills him. Still, part of his brain is already calculating how to kill every one of the five men surrounding Felicity for daring to lay a hand on her.

But as he closes the distance he realizes it won't be necessary, because two women are crossing the street to help Felicity already. There's a lot of yelling going on. Oliver slows down just enough to barrel through the group and get to Felicity, slugging one of the men in the face on his way and using his momentum to propel the asshole twisting her arm back into the brick wall hard enough that smacks his head and slumps to the ground. 

His disruption silences everyone for a second. He puts an arm out, sheltering Felicity and putting himself between her and the men.

The ringleader of the little group seems to have noticed the shifting odds, particularly since two other men have started to cross the street to investigate. "Come on, let's get out of here," one of the assholes mumbles and the group scurries away, dragging their dazed buddy along with them. 

"Good luck, you jerks. We have pictures of all of your faces!" one of the women yells after them, waving her cell phone. 

The other approaches Felicity. "Are you all right, hon?"

Oliver finally takes a good look at her. Her eyes are huge and her face is flushed. Her hands are shaking as she grips tightly to her phone and purse. "Yeah. I'm not hurt." 

Not hurt is nowhere near "all right" but Oliver doesn't point that out. 

She looks up at him. "Thanks."

He just nods at her. His body is still full of adrenaline and he can't stop looking at her to assure himself that aside from scared and shaken up she was okay. It's bad enough that she's in danger from helping him in general. It's worse that he's knowingly asked her to endanger herself, something that gives him nightmares on a regular basis imagining what could have gone wrong with Slade, the Count, and a dozen other times. 

But this? This was nothing he could control and it somehow is a thousand times worse. His hands clench. He wants his bow and clear shots of every one of the men who threatened Felicity. He wants to watch each body drop after he's put half a dozen arrows into the most painful locations possible. Slowly. 

"We should go to the police," Oliver says. He can't quite believe those words just came out of his mouth and from her expression, Felicity can't either. But this isn't something the Arrow can or should handle. The blood lust in his veins is proof that he would be seeking vengeance. If the police can deal with this, they should. The Arrow will step in only if there's no other option. 

"I've got pictures," the woman with the cell phone puts in. "And we both saw the whole thing."

Felicity is hesitating. Oliver reaches out - slowly and gently, so he doesn't scare her - and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Lance will want to know about this." Whatever Captain Lance's feelings about the Arrow, the man regards Felicity almost as an honorary daughter at this point. He'll rain appropriate hell down on the miscreants who tried to hurt her.

Felicity nods and they arrange to meet the two witnesses - Angela and Kelly - at the police station. Oliver walks Felicity to her car, holding his hand out for her keys. There's no way she can drive right now. Oliver's not one hundred percent sure he can do it either, but his hands aren't visibly shaking. 

When they're alone, Felicity looks at him, "What about-"

"It can wait," he tells her firmly. The lead will still be there tomorrow. 

She wants to protest, he can feel it, but in the end she says nothing.

*~*~*~*~*

Lance arrives at the police station, alerted by someone's call, just before they're leaving. His scowl is more pronounced than usual and he gruffly orders the officer who has taken everyone's statements that finding these particular scumbags is a priority. He also lectures Felicity on walking down streets in the Glades alone in the dark, sparing Oliver any need to do the same, which would not go over well coming from him of all people. 

Felicity escapes Lance's lecturing and Oliver stands up. "You ready?" She nods and they walk out to the car. Oliver gets in the driver's seat and heads for her apartment. 

"What about the mission tonight?" she asks again.

"We'll go tomorrow."

"Meanwhile more drugs get loose in the Glades," she points out, frustrated.

"We weren't going to stop the entire operation tonight, Felicity," he replies, trying to stay reasonable. Even if they had, he knows damn well he'd still be right here, driving her home, the Glades and the city be damned. 

Because he may ask her to take risks, but if it ever came to a choice, he would choose her every time, with the exception of Thea. That's a dangerous vulnerability for the Arrow, one he can't afford, even though the cost to Oliver Queen feels nearly unbearable right now.

He pushes those thoughts away. "Besides, it's Monday night. Trust me when I say the club scene isn't going to be very active tonight." 

She subsides. He can see her worrying her fingers together out of the corner of his eye. He looks for some way to reassure her.

"Roy's doing a patrol just in case. He said it would be a personal pleasure for him to beat the shit out of those assholes for you, to give a direct quote. And I had to get Lyla on the phone to restrain Digg from coming to the police station to check on you in person." 

That gets a ghost of a smile from her but it fades swiftly. "I'm sorry," she says, almost too quietly for him to hear. "I shouldn't have been walking down that street alone, not at this hour-"

He reaches over and takes hold of her hand. "Felicity, you have nothing to be sorry for. You have every right to walk down the street alone, even at night, without getting harassed and assaulted for it by some wannabe thugs." It could have been so much worse, he knows. If not for Angela and Kelly intervening, Felicity could have been seriously hurt before he arrived on the scene. And if she hadn't been able to call him? He can't even think about it.

He nearly starts to apologize to her for not cleaning up every street in Starling single-handedly, for not making it totally safe for her here, but that's an impossible task on its face. Besides he doesn't want to sound like he's making this about him. 

She doesn't answer him. The lack of talking is worrying him, so he keeps hold of her hand until they pull up outside her building.

He follows her into her apartment. He can see that she's uncomfortable. He's never been alone here with her before. He doesn't want to make her feel threatened, but he's not willing to leave her alone just yet. In truth, he's afraid to not be with her himself. He'd be texting or calling her every twenty minutes to check on her with the mental state he's in. 

"I'll stay until you get settled, okay?"

"I'm going to shower," she blurts out. For once she doesn't try to take it back or smooth it over, just crumples and turns away from him. 

He takes off his jacket and sits down on the couch. He turns the tv on, keeping the volume down and his attention on some random documentary to avoid thinking about her in the next room getting undressed, or stepping into the shower. 

Some of the tension has left his body when he hears a muffled noise from the bathroom. He jumps up and goes to the door, listening intently.

She's crying. 

His hand closes around the doorknob before he stops himself. He can't go in there. She's most likely in the shower, naked, crying, and for him to storm in there even with the best of intentions would violate their friendship and partnership in a thousand ways. 

He opens his mouth to call to her but his voice won't work. If he calls to her she'll have to answer, and she'll try to lie, and panic that he'll burst in on her. She doesn't need that right now. 

His hand presses against the closed door. He just stands there, straining to hear any noise coming from the other side. There are a couple more whimpers then nothing but the sound of the water. 

Guilt tears at him. _I should have been there for her. I shouldn't have left her alone like that._

The water shuts off and he finally breaks. "Felicity?"

"I'm okay," she says immediately, sounding nervous. Exactly as he feared. 

"Okay. I'm... I'm right outside the door, okay? If you need..." He has no idea what she might need that would help. He's more than a little afraid because he would do anything she asked right now, regardless of the consequences, which is a dangerous state for them to be in.

She doesn't answer, to his mingled misery and relief. 

He leans against the wall. He can't help but think about what she's doing on the other side of the door. He wonders what her post-shower routine is. Everyone has one. He remembers glimpses of bottles of lotion on the top of the toilet from one of his previous visits (Felicity made him and Digg watch the Errol Flynn "Robin Hood" movie with her one night ages ago). 

Longing sinks deep into his chest, making his lungs ache. It's not even sexual, or at least not entirely sexual. He really does want to know what she's doing in there, just because it's part of her day. He wants to know all of the small details that would be insignificant to someone else. Does she rub lotion into her skin after she showers? Is the fruit smell he catches on her from shampoo or soap or something else? Does she sleep on her side? Brush her teeth first thing in the morning?

He wants to know her. For all that they spend so many hours a day in each other's company, there's so much he doesn't know about her. Big things and small ones, but he wants them all. 

The worst part is he wants her to know him too. He's let so few people in, trusts almost nobody in the world the way he trusts her. He trusts her not to hate him for what he is and what he's done, and still look at him like he's a good person, like he's worthy. 

And he could have had all of it. If he hadn't screwed it up. 

The door opens and he straightens, feeling slightly ridiculous. Her apartment isn't that big, and it's weird that he's lurking outside the bathroom like this. 

Her hair is still wet, loose over her shoulders. Without makeup or her glasses she seems even smaller than normal, and her eyes are red. Even so she seems to guess that he heard her crying. She crosses her arms over her chest. "It's stupid, really."

"What?"

"After everything we've been through, everything that's happened, something like this freaks me out this bad." 

"Hey." He can't not touch her right now, but he puts his hand on her shoulder. It's always been the safest place for them to make contact. "Whatever's happened in the past, doesn't make this not scary." 

Her entire body trembles and his control cracks. "Come here," he says, gentling his voice. Felicity steps into his arms and Oliver holds her against his chest while her body shakes, his chin on the top of her head. Her hand fists in his t-shirt. 

They stay like that for a long while, Oliver rubbing one hand against her back until her body stops trembling and some of the tension in her muscles has eased. His own heart finally slows down to a normal pace from being able to hold her, which says plenty about how dangerous this is for him, but there's no way he's letting go until she does. 

Reluctantly she pulls back from him. He rubs his palms against her upper arms. "Better?" She nods. "Do you want to go to bed now?" As soon as the words are out he realizes how that might sound and his ears get warm. "I... meant did you want to try to sleep," he mutters.

"Usually I'm the one with my foot in my mouth," Felicity says with a small smile. 

"You're a bad influence, clearly," Oliver tells her. Her smile widens. 

"I'm actually kind of hungry. I think I have some bagels in the freezer."

He nods. "I'll go look. You should..." His eyes flicker down and he jerks them up again quickly, because the bathrobe she's wearing has started to slip down, giving him a glimpse of bare skin lower than is strictly decent and he doesn't need the fuel for his forbidden fantasies. "Can I have a bagel? I haven't eaten since this morning myself." 

"Knock yourself out. I have butter and cream cheese in the fridge."

Five minutes later he's in her kitchen, waiting for her bagel to come out of the toaster. Felicity wanders in just as the toaster pops. She's wearing an MIT hoodie and flannel pajama pants, despite the weather not being that cold. Her hair is still loose, making her look like a college student. 

She pours herself some juice from the fridge as he sets her bagel on a plate. "Thanks." 

"Do you want butter or cream cheese?"

"I think I might go half and half."

Oliver grimaces. "Really?"

"What? I'm not going to mix them together on the same bagel." 

"I don't know, I think you should commit to one or the other." 

She pokes his ribs. "You eat it your way, I'll eat it mine." She slathers butter on one half of the bagel just to reinforce the point and he grins at her. At least now he knows how she eats bagels. 

A few minutes later they're sitting side by side on her couch watching a "Mythbusters" rerun. Oliver has to turn his eyes away when Felicity sucks a drop of butter off her thumb. He's hungrier than he realized. His bagel and cream cheese disappears in a few bites. 

There's a silence until the episode ends. Felicity has started to slouch, and her body is sliding toward his heavier one, but neither of them have moved to separate. 

"Oliver?" Her voice is quiet.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not killing them," she says, still in that quiet tone of voice, even though her words feel like a punch in the stomach. "I know you were thinking about it," she glances up at him briefly. "I could see it in your face." She looks back at the tv. "And for staying tonight. And coming to help me."

"Always." His arm slips around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. He tells himself it's so she can use his shoulder as a pillow and maybe fall asleep, which is half-true. "Although your new friends got there faster than I did." 

She cranes her neck back to look up at him. "Did you hear what Angela said? She told them to leave me alone, because she wasn't going to tolerate this kind of thing in her city." 

He swallows, unexpected warmth in his stomach. "People in this city used to help each other," he said to Digg a lifetime ago. 

Felicity nudges him. "That was you. You did that, Oliver."

He appreciates the compliment but it's not quite accurate. "No, _we_ did." 

She smiles for the first time all night, causing his heart to stutter in his chest. She snuggles into him, and Oliver's not sure there's a power on earth that could move him right now. 

Before the next episode is over, she's asleep against his shoulder. Carefully he lifts the blanket on the edge of the couch and drapes it over them both. Getting her awake enough to go to bed seems pointless and carrying her there is far, far too tempting, so he makes himself comfortable being Felicity's pillow for as long as she sleeps.


End file.
